One of the things that hurts my heart about my drinking days is how it tended to bring out the worst in me. And how, as a result, my children were exposed to the worst me on a regular basis. The worst me wasn’t violent, but did tend to get emotional, snippy, angry, resentful, sad and careless with her words. Careless words, which turned into forgotten conversations.
I would awaken at 3:00 am and try to call to mind what I had done or said to whomever I was around (unfortunately that was usually my husband and children) and dutifully follow the trail of guilt and regret into the next day. Until I could stuff it all down with drink again and the cycle continued.
Inevitably, I would have at least one conversation with my husband or children where they would say, “I know. You told me that last night. Don’t you remember?” Ouch.
If it was my husband, I would smile ruefully, knowing that he knew the cause of this amnesia that plagued me each morning. If it was my kids, I’d try to play it off and say, “Oh yeah. That’s right. Sorry!” They’ll just think I’m old and forgetful, I thought to myself.
But it wasn’t just the blackouts–losing chunks of time–that troubled my soul. It was the fact that, if I couldn’t recall the words I was speaking, how could I be held accountable for them, or even begin to know the effect they may be having on my children?
Sometimes the dirty water was evident all around me, as it had spilled onto the pages of my journal in anger. I had had an argument with my husband. I tried to decipher the irrational scrawl and feel a cold lump of disbelief in my stomach. Disbelief that I was the person who composed those cruel, empty words. That I had been my worst me again last night.
Other times, I had no physical evidence of my behavior but I would sense turbulence. A troubled feeling that I had let someone down or left a need unmet, yet again. When I felt brave, or like really torturing myself, I’d try to imagine what they thought about the nightly shit show they were regularly a part of. Did they roll their eyes inwardly and think, “Oh no…here she goes again”? They were too young to attribute it to the parade of wine glasses, weren’t they?
One morning-after, dropping my 13-year-old son off at school and realizing I hadn’t been able to help him with his algebra the night before because I’d been at least a bottle in at that point. I asked him to show me his textbook again, hoping to quickly explain it now that I was at least semi-coherent. I blankly looked at the scribbles all over the example in the book. “Who wrote this?” I asked, dumbly. “You did, mom.” The disappointment in his voice said it all…
One evening, after a Super Bowl party, my older son called me from his dad’s to say he was worried his father might be using again. It wasn’t until the next day that I realized I had talked to him for over half an hour and couldn’t, for the life of me, remember anything I had said…
The hard answer is no, the boys weren’t too young to understand the cause of my unpredictable behavior. My daughter, at age six, was too young, I think, to understand why she had to say, “Just stop, mom,” as I ranted at her about something she had done, or left undone.
Regardless of their age, or connections that they made, they noticed. Noticed when mom started acting different, or was incapable of helping with a question or a need. When the worst me walked into the room.
Some people may read these open confessions as a woman beating herself up…living in a past full of regrets. But that’s not why I wrote these words. Here’s the thing: Coming to terms with the reality of my past makes me overwhelmingly grateful for who I am today. Grateful for the gift I can offer my family now that I don’t drink.
I can wake up everyday and give them the gift of consistency. The security of knowing that I am aware of and accountable for every word I say to them. The assurance that the woman who greets them in the morning will be the same woman who tucks them in at night.
The promise that the worst me is gone for good.
“Coming to terms with the reality of my past makes me overwhelmingly grateful for who I am today.” I love this! Can I use your quote with credit to you on Pinterest?
Sure! That’s funny, I was thinking of trying to promote on Pinterest like you explained in your post by creating a pin on Canva. That was the exact quote I was going to use… You can do it and I can get a better idea of how it’s done. 😊
That’s so funny! I’ll play with it tomorrow. Email me at juliekrupp@gmail.com with your favorite color and I’ll draft up a few images. I’ll use one on my Pinterest and link it back to your blog, and you can use whatever images you want. It will be an exchange of content. 🙂
Let me know your Pinterest account too so I can follow you. 🙂
as i read these words i vividly recalled so many of the same feelings and situations….never with my kids, but very often with my partners. You reminded me, thankfully, that i am not the only one who went through the very same things. Often when i think too much about them i start to spiral down, because i can never retrieve the time i lost. But we can move forward with a new life, knowing how hard we have worked to overcome our failings…hugs..xxx
Yes, it’s a balance between revisiting your past to recall why you’re here now and overstaying the visit so that it brings you shame and regret. Moving forward and doing our best each day (along with being gentle with ourselves when we don’t) is the way to go. Xx
ty collette!
Definitely shaking my head up and down on this one, Collette. I totally get it. We are consistently so much better now my friend😊.
Consistently better. I love it. Thanks, Dwight! Xx
Yes. To every single thought here.
6 years later I can’t begin to tell you how proud of myself I am, and often.
I help my kids, I do my work, I make dinner, I enjoy yoga or watching tv. Yay me!
All with clear and thoughtful eye.
I know i was brittle and resentful as a drinker. I was so disappointed in myself and lived with that weight of guilt over things I couldn’t quite recall, but knew must exist. A weight I clung to as I clung to my wine.
I don’t miss it at all.
My kids are now 15 and 17 (they were 8 and 10 when I quit. They trust me completely.
This is the truth gift of sobriety.
Stillness and peace
Anne
You are one marvelous woman. Six years fills me with admiration and hope for my future. It’s such an emotional tangle when we have brought our children along for the ride. But time heals, and builds trust, as you mentioned. Glad to be traveling this road with you! And yes to the stillness and peace. Thank you. Xx
Collette
OMG Collette! You are amazing <3
I think this post is so powerful! So I'll share my mantra you like – "We do the best we know how, at that time."
It takes courage to share the revelations you had and it's so darn impressive the clarity you have now. Let me say, from reading your posts, you take one day at a time, one household or life crisis at a time and claiming what used to be – a place you never want to return to – I believe is so powerful in helping you stay your course.
One moment at a time my friend 🙂 <3
Yes, often one moment at a time. But I’m still here, doing what I do the best I can do it. My hope in sharing is that others make a connection and feel empowered to examine their lives without fear, and learn that it’s okay to feel big things. It’s what we do with those feelings that is significant. Numbing and stuffing doesn’t work. Acknowledging, sitting, moving through and releasing brings freedom. Thanks so much for your support. You are a wonderful human being! Xx
So well said 🙂
Your journey is inspiring for everyone !!
xx
Yes, often one moment at a time. But I’m still here, doing what I do the best I can do it. My hope in sharing is that others make a connection and feel empowered to examine their lives without fear, and learn that it’s okay to feel big things. It’s what we do with those feelings that is significant. Thanks so much for your support. You are a wonderful human being! Xx
Wow, this is really, really helpful and something I think many of us can relate to. Thank you for sharing. ❤️
Thanks, Leafy. Glad you found it to be helpful. Xx
See… you are never a downer. ❤ I still think about things I did when the kids were little. Or older. Like you say… it makes me more grateful for my consistency now, a constant reminder of life then vs. Now. Xo
I’m so with you on this. With drink I was all over the place. Sometimes up, sometimes down. Even I couldn’t predict where I would be. Now the drink has gone and I know myself better. I feel a better parent for that. Your words so beautifully reinforce this. Thank you for being so honest. x
Thank you. Yes, being consistent is also a gift to ourselves, not just our kids. Have a good weekend!